Page 43 - WTP Vol. VII #6

“Reading what.” It was an accusation. She stood be- hind me and reached over my shoulder for the book. I felt the nap of her flannel housecoat; she was so close to my cheek that she could have been giving me a kiss.
home again. ‘House of Love’! Wait till Daddy gets home.”
“What kind of book is this? What kinds of things are going on in here?”
I would not let her upset me. I stared at my blank homework page. Tears filled my eyes but I blinked them back. My expectations had been wrong, and my childish pride was pierced. Mystery, Beauty, Love—all been pulled away from me.
There was no answer.
She held up the book like a paddle.
I had no stomach for the words on my vocabulary list.
“Where did you get this trash?”
If I told her she might not let me take the bus with my friend.
“I found it.”
Adelman, a native of New York City, has won two awards for fiction from the Bronx Council on the Arts and has published short stories online at Bodega and WORK. A novel excerpt appeared in Brilliant Corners, a print journal of jazz and literature, in May 2018.
She took my book and made a show of keeping my door wide open.
“You found it!” She scorned me. “You’ll find a whack on your behind if you bring this kind of garbage
Nocturne
leaves processed to be handmade paper, silk organza, polyester, acrylic. Twelve layers of fabric with leaves as top layer 40'' x 14'' By Jo Stealey
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